


Red Like His Eyes

by wordlessUltimatum



Category: Homestuck
Genre: First Time, M/M, Smut, more smut, theres plot in there somewhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 15:57:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13744335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordlessUltimatum/pseuds/wordlessUltimatum
Summary: His smile was what caught me first, but it was his hands that held me after, his fingers tracing along my skin, writing away my fears and replacing them with love, and fire, and him.





	Red Like His Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miss_Nihilist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Nihilist/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, love.

 

His smile is what caught me first. If I had blinked, even for a second, I would have missed it; the nearly involuntary quirk of the lips being swallowed by the passive poker face that he normally wore. It was if for single second, his personality shone through, and everything he had mastered hiding was let out into the open. And he was beautiful.

I didn't know him well. I watched his entire life from a screen, but he barely made an impression. Just goes to show how little we know the people that will affect us the most. I did not know when I first saw him that we would end up there, his hands running across my skin as my lips danced along his.

What caught me second was his eyes. He kept them hidden behind shades, but once, they got knocked off, and though I never told him I saw behind them, I will never forget the vivid shade of red that I saw. The same bright red as my blood. How ironic that the color I spent so long hating and loathing be the color I later most loved seeing.

What made me love him first was his voice. From the paced streams of irony and bullshit he spouted, a Texan lilt just barely touching his voice to the soft whisper he used in the dark hours of the nights when we were alone. He would talk a lot in those nights. About his life before the game and about his thoughts, his voice quiet and quick, as if he was scared to really be heard.

It was on one of these nights that I first kissed him, cutting off a stream of thought mid-sentence, and to my surprise, he kissed back. His lips were soft. And as my hand went to his chest, I found that all of him was soft, almost fragile. But none of his actions were fragile as he deftly pressed into me, tongue dancing across my lips as his hand dipped under my shirt, sliding up my back, pulling me closer. And I moved closer, drinking in his scent of cinnamon and sweat as my arms wrapped around him.

With a questioning glance and an answering nod, he removed my shirt, and I did the same to his, pulling off his shades and losing myself in his eyes and his lips and his touch. As if by gravity, we pushed together, bodies twisting into a single entity, my hips pressing insistently against him as passion flooded me, heat radiating from him like fire. His hand trailed down my stomach, slipping past the waistband of my jeans to rub against me. His mouth swallowed my resulting moan with ease, lips pursing against mine as if begging for more. And with a few deft motions, he pulled it out of me.

Unspeaking, he slipped off his jeans and mine, my hand weaving through his hair. My head moving down, lips tracing his jawline, stopping to nip at the base of his ear, and he let out a soft breath, just barely less than a moan. I rubbed my hips into his, heat flooding my groin as he hardened against me. My bulge wrapped around his wrist as a pair of fingers slipped into my nook and I keened, my own hand gently running along his cock, pulling my own moan from him. His other hand moved to my bulge, pumping up and down along it. Bright red genetic material dripped from the tip and I let out a moan, moving my hand faster on his cock. He kissed me again, teeth catching my bottom lip softly, dragging my arousal ever higher.

As if all at once, I tip over, falling into orgasmic bliss, with a deep moan, feeling him twitch in my palm as he follows me over the edge. Waves of pleasure flood me, my genetic material staining his pale skin with red. The red of his eyes and my blood and our love.

His smile was what caught me first, but it was his hands that held me after, his fingers tracing along my skin, writing away my fears and replacing them with love, and fire, and him.


End file.
